


How Deep is the Wound You're Healing

by lost_decade



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Road Trips, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_decade/pseuds/lost_decade
Summary: After his trip to Silicon Valley, Nico decides to drive to Vegas and tries to figure out some stuff about himself and Lewis along the way.





	How Deep is the Wound You're Healing

**Author's Note:**

> I actually did pretty much this exact road trip a few years ago, so hopefully this is fairly geographically accurate.

“Do you want to take over for a bit?” Georg asks. The road sprawls out before them, sun sinking down below the horizon. The immaculate lawns of the suburbs are long behind them now, given way to vast stretches of tarmac blistered in the July heat, the trees along the roadside becoming more and more gnarled with each passing kilometre. They stop at the next gas station, stocking up on water and snacks, Nico asking the bored, weathered-looking old lady behind the counter if they carry spare portable phone chargers only to be met with a confused silence. That’s a no, then.

“How far is it to where we’re staying?”

“Another hour or two I think,” Georg replies, sliding the passenger seat back and stretching out his legs as Nico starts the engine.

“I know you think this is crazy,” Nico says, glancing at him out the corner of his eye and flicking on the headlamps.

“I don’t think it’s crazy. It’s good to do things you’ve never done before. Just that most road trips require some planning. Cancelling the flight wasn’t a problem, just we could have been in Vegas this morning.” Lying by the pool, enjoying a break for a few days before the next conference Nico is speaking at. Instead of driving into the wilderness. Georg keeps his thoughts to himself.

“Yosemite was incredible,” he says instead. “That was a great idea.” They’d stopped for less than two hours, but the sense of peace that lingered among the giant sequoia trees had seemed to put them both in an introspective mood, Nico leaning his head against the window, silently staring out at the landscape as Georg had driven on through the valley, pausing only to consult the map when the sat-nav inevitably got confused and they ended up beside a lake that was clearly not in the right direction they should’ve been going in.

“We should go back there,” Nico replies, “do some actual hiking there sometime.”

Georg could go for that, camping out under the stars. “We could, maybe in spring, if it’s a bit cooler.” He yawns and stretches, trying to shake the ache in his limbs, that faint feeling of claustrophobia. Tall people and cars. They had turned down a perfectly acceptable Jeep in favour of a pale blue 1972 Lincoln Continental that okay, had been fully restored and fitted with air con, but that definitely was not built for someone over six feet tall.  Visiting California has apparently put Nico in the frame of mind of trying to recreate the search for the American Dream or something. Which is quite a romantic notion, however Paul had sent Georg a photo earlier of him and Francesco and a couple of girls in bikinis sitting in a Jacuzzi, and damn _that_ sounds like the kind of trip he could really get on board with. But then he wasn’t about to leave Nico to drive across two States alone with no plan of where to stay so fuck it, he’s earning his money he figures.     

“Could you ever live here?” Nico asks as they pass a sign telling them they're entering Bishop, population 3,789.

“What in California? No, I'd miss the rain too much. Not enough grey.”

“Not a whole lot of grey in Monaco.”

“There is in Hamburg. You should come and visit sometime.” He thinks of it for a moment, of sitting with Nico by the lake behind his house. “You and Vivian, I mean. Nina would love to see you.”

Nico thinks of the last time he visited Georg's home, immediately after Spa a couple of years ago; Georg muttering about _damage limitation_ and Nina fussing over him and giving him cups of tea.

“Mmm, yeah we will for sure. Near Christmas maybe, take Alaïa to the Christmas Markets.”

Georg has a pang of longing for home. Ice on the lake, cinnamon pretzels and gluhwein kisses.

“Yeah, sounds nice,” he replies vaguely.

“Lewis is going to live here.” The words tumble from Nico's mouth, quickly as though he doesn't want to say them but can't not. An irritation in his throat that he needs to spit out.

“When he retires, I mean. He mentioned it to me once.”

Bishop recedes into the distance, little more than one long street, a few roads branching off either side. The shiny office blocks and palm trees of Silicon Valley seem like a different world, yet still they're in the same State as where they set out earlier that day. It sort of feels like this is somewhere forgotten, where you would be forgotten if you stayed here too long. As if it would swallow you up and you'd be sitting out on a porch telling some disbelieving old guy chewing tobacco that you used to race cars for a living once.

“Does it bother you?” Georg asks. “Would it, I mean. If he did?”

Nico takes his eyes off the road for a moment. “I...yes.”

There aren't any other cars around, no streetlights on this stretch of road. Georg can't see Nico's eyes but he knows he's troubled. Whether by the thought of Lewis moving halfway around the world or by the fact that it’d actually bother him if it did happen. He wonders, not for the first time, whether he should cross the boundary, just mention it. Nico is the smartest guy he's ever met and so it seems insane that he should think Georg hasn't figured it out by now. Or maybe he's well aware that Georg knows but finds it easier to keep it as one of those things they don't talk about. _I've known about you and him for years,_ he wants to say. But he's seen Nico shut down before and there's still a long journey ahead of them.

“He keeps avoiding my calls,” Nico adds.

There's a rattle coming from the trunk and Nico sounds tired, as tired as Georg is. He somehow feels incredibly useless, as though everything he's ever taught Nico has remained on the surface.

“Then stop calling, make him miss you.”

“I don't _miss_ him. It's not that, it's just…”

“Just what?” Georg reaches over, patting Nico's thigh in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. He leaves his hand there for an indeterminate stretch of highway, the warmth of Nico's skin seeping up and warming his palm. When eventually he lifts his hand off he presses it to his cheek, turning his face to the window and the looming shadow of the mountains, jagged in the moonlight.

“It's nothing,” Nico finishes.

Yeah, of course. It's nothing.

* * *

The Mount Whitney Motel is modest in comparison with the other places they’ve stayed recently, yet almost every parking space out front is taken and the lights shining out from the reception are inviting enough. Nico waits out by the car while Georg goes in to see if they have any rooms free. The desert night air is welcomingly cool after hours spent behind the wheel, the stars a vast blanket across the sky.

Nico finds that he likes the silence, nothing but vague TV noise drifting out through the thin windows of the rooms and some indistinguishable music coming from the saloon bar over the other side of the street. Enough quiet to think. That’s what he’d wanted really, why he’d suggested they drive out here. Some time to just go over shit in his head and figure out really, finally, what the deal is with him and Lewis. Conclusions aren’t seeming that easy to come by. Nico isn’t a quitter, despite the accusations that Lewis had levelled at him the last time they’d spoken. But retiring from racing as World Champion and giving up on whatever it is he has with Lewis are very different. It feels like failure, more impossible now than it’s ever been but still he can’t quite break those ties. He wonders if Lewis truly can, if he’s really ready to call time on them.

“They only have one twin left,” Georg says when he emerges from inside, silhouetted in the neon glow of the motel sign. “We can try somewhere else if you prefer?”

“A twin’s fine,” Nico replies, reaching for their bags. It’s basic but okay enough, wood panelling and beams across the ceiling, a painting of the snow-capped mountains hung up on the wall between the two single beds; a lone cowboy riding his horse through the delta. Rustic frontier charm.

It isn’t that late, only just gone 8:30, and once Nico has splashed some water on his face and changed his t-shirt they wander out onto Main Street in search of food.

“I feel like I’ve stepped into a western,” Nico comments later after they’ve demolished almost half a salmon – _caught just up river -_ and found refuge in the saloon bar. It does feel a bit like that, caught up between tourists and locals, just passing through. There are dollar bills pinned to the rafters and an American flag on the ceiling; the jukebox playing some jangly lamenting tune about lost love.

“Don’t look now, but John Wayne’s sitting over there in the corner,” Georg laughs. Nico smiles but there’s weariness in his eyes. He clinks his glass against Georg’s, taking a sip of his beer and leaning back in the booth with a yawn.

“Thanks for coming with me, it’s good to have someone to share the driving with.”

“No problem, good to see more of the country.” There was never any question of Georg not going with Nico, but Georg doesn’t voice that. “I’ll always be at your side if you need anything,” he says instead, and it sounded more oblique in his head.

“I know you will,” Nico replies, so knowingly that something in Georg’s chest plummets all the way down to the pit of his stomach, making him feel cold all over. They finish up and head back, past the wood-fronted drugstore and the rows of trucks parked up by the gas station.

“Could I borrow your charger?” Nico asks when they’re back in the room, Georg rooting through his bag in search of toothpaste. He untangles the cable, pulling it from his bag and he’s not quite sure what possesses him but fuck it, he shoves the US adapter to the very bottom, burying it beneath his laundry.

“Shit, sorry I think I left the adapter plugged in back in the house.”

Nico frowns, but okay. His own had stopped working the day before and he hasn’t managed to pick up a new one yet.

“Don’t worry, I saw a payphone out in the lobby. Something kind of charming about it anyway. I won’t be long.”

“Calling Vivian?” Georg asks, voice strained, his back to Nico.

“Um, yeah, I told her I would.”

Georg strips to his underwear after he’s left the room, nestling beneath the covers and flicking the light off. It wouldn’t be a proper motel if you couldn’t hear people fucking through the paper thin walls, and it shouldn’t be arousing, the thump of the headboard against the wall and the occasional high pitched moan, but he finds himself reaching for his cock anyway, closing his eyes and stroking himself firmly a few times before taking his hand away because he really isn’t doing this. And the thought of Nico coming back and finding him jerking off over that is just too awkward.

He turns onto his side, looking over at the other empty bed before closing his eyes in the hope of sleep.

*

“Can we talk,” Nico says when the call connects.

“Nico,” Lewis replies, surprised. Nico still loves the way Lewis says his name. All the varying tones still exist in his head, love and passion and anger.  

Nico winds the telephone cord around his finger, taking a deep breath. “My phone died, I wrote your number down. Don’t hang up, Lewis.”

“Not hanging up, I just wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“I didn’t get to see you at Silverstone.”

“Yeah, kind of had a lot going on, man. I knew you were there I just needed to be in the right headspace for the race.”

“It’s effort now, isn’t it, trying to find the time, trying to see each other. I thought it might be easier.”

Lewis laughs. “It was always effort, even when we were living in each other’s pockets. Some things are worth making an effort for. Sometimes you gotta know when to quit it.”

“You don’t think this…fuck hold on,” he slots some more coins into the phone.

“You don’t think we’re worth fighting for anymore?” Nico isn’t really sure why, but he’d half thought that retiring would make things better between them, that it could go back to how it used to be years ago, like it could be a good thing. It was supposed to be a good thing.

“Honestly, Nico…I don’t know if _we_ even exist anymore. I don’t know what’s left. The times it was good, really good, was when we were kids. It was a fucking long time ago. I’m...” he pauses.

“Go on, you can say it.”

“I’m really happy. This year, having Valtteri on the team, I don’t know man I’m enjoying it. And you've got your family. Maybe it's come to a natural end.”

Nico leans his head back against the wall, trying not to panic, because no, no fucking way is this going to end with a phone call, not for them. He won't let it.

“Okay,” he hears himself say. “But can we not do this over the phone. What if you came to Vegas? Don't we owe it to ourselves to at least do this properly?”

He sounds distracted, Lewis, like there's people in the background commanding his attention, stealing it away from Nico.

“Uh, yeah okay I guess I could,” he says, the lack of enthusiasm practically pouring through the phone.

“I'll be there by Saturday. I’m at the Four Seasons. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Alright, I’ll get a flight over.”

 _I know you still love me,_ Nico wants to say as he hangs up. Then he realises he doesn’t even know if that’s true anymore.

* * *

“We should check out the area before we head off,” Georg says, swallowing the last of his coffee and pushing his empty breakfast plate away, spreading out the map on the table. There isn’t enough time to tackle any of the serious hiking trails in the area so instead they end up taking a detour up to Horseshoe Meadows, the winding road ascending up into the mountains.

The car is really not built for such precariousness and Georg glances down at the sheer drop with an uncomfortable shiver of vertigo.

“Scared,” Nico asks, raising an eyebrow as he glances at him.

“Just thinking of the headlines,” Georg jokes.

“Yeah like I’m not the most careful driver you’ve ever met.”

“Sure, but do you know what to do if we break down and you’re confronted by a bear?” he asks as they pass a sign warning of their presence in the area. The road widens out, becoming less cliffy and more open, some greenery in amongst the rocks and wizened shrubs.

“Panic,” Nico laughs.

They climb a little further and then the road plateaus out completely, a flat stretch of land surrounded by mountains, a small stream running through it. It doesn’t really look that meadow-like but Nico figures that’s just the season.

The air feels fresh up here and they park up and walk a little way down one of the trails, Georg snapping pictures of Nico with his camera. His shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, legs getting tanned in the early morning sun. Georg glances at the camera screen, shielding it against the light. The one of Nico looking back over his shoulder is the best of the bunch. Georg rubs his thumb across the screen, sighing.

It isn’t really that far down to Palm Springs from where they are, four hours roughly and enough to do straight. They head back down into town for supplies before taking to the road again. The mid afternoon heat is sweltering, sun beating down on the arid landscape. Save for a lone RV and a couple of giant trucks they barely see another soul, pushing on south down the Interstate. Georg takes over the driving while Nico pores over his notes for the conference, sipping from his water bottle occasionally and reading bits aloud.

“Do you think it sounds natural enough?”

“You focus on Lewis a lot.”

“Hmm...I was thinking about changing that part around. But...hard to talk about my career and not touch on Lewis very much.” Nico thinks of the slides, the one of the two of them when they were still in karts. Before they’d even kissed.

“He doesn’t define you,” Georg replies, leaning over to fiddle with the radio, static fuzzing out into the car.

“No, of course not. He’s coming to Vegas.”

Georg’s grip on the steering wheel tightens but he says nothing. He doesn’t have the right to say anything. He likes Lewis, genuinely he does. It’s just - and Vivian has said this to him in the past as well - they aren’t good for each other. That’s all. “That’ll be cool,” he says, turning his head to look at Nico and then having to swerve at the sight of an animal in the middle of the road. They pull over, stepping out of the car and into the dry, baking heat. And fuck. The coyote has clearly been hit by another vehicle, legs mangled beneath its body and guts spilling out onto the tarmac, whining hideously in pain. Nico looks at Georg warily. “We have to,” he says. “We can’t just let it suffer.”

*

Georg takes a long drink of water when they get back in the car, hanging his head forward and resting it on the wheel for a moment. His hands are stained and dust catches heavy in his throat. It seems so fucking absurd, this whole trip.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Give me a minute. It’s just the heat.” That and the fact that it feels like Lewis is in the fucking car with them. Oh and the killing of wild animals; had he known that was on the agenda he’d just have manhandled Nico onto the plane yesterday morning.

Once he’s got himself together they push on towards the city without any further incident, Nico drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by the radio playing indiscriminate country music - the only station they can pick up. He dreams of Lewis, of the day they spent together in Istanbul after the Turkish Grand Prix back in 2010. They’d wandered around the city, descending the steps into the Basilica Cistern, stealing kisses behind the dozens of marble columns. The warmth of Lewis’ breath on his face feels so foreign, the look in his eyes one that no longer exists. Nico knows it’s a dream, a moment long past, but he tries to cling on to Lewis, head spinning in confusion when the Brit disappears out of sight behind one of the columns. He can hear Lewis’ breathing, _I’m over here_ whispered into the darkness of the dimly lit cisterns, echoing up from the water that surrounds them – yet once he loses sight of him he can’t find him again, waking with a panicked jolt.

He rubs his neck, sore from where the seatbelt has dug into the skin with the awkward angle he’d slumped into. The surroundings are different now, creeping signs of civilisation, more houses and stores and in the distance taller buildings and palm trees.

“Almost there,” Georg says, “I booked us into a decent hotel this time.”

*

It is rather lovely, the hotel, a small cluster of luxury bungalows dotted around a very enticing swimming pool and with a view of the mountains. They have separate rooms this time and agree to meet at the pool bar before dinner.

Nico collapses back onto the bed before even unpacking, stretching out in exhaustion. He barely slept the night before and being cooped up in the car has made his body feel like one big ache. He lets himself drift for a while, calling Vivi from the telephone in the room when he wakes. Listening to Alaïa chatter nonsense to him down the phone lifts his mood considerably and after standing under the firm pressure of the shower he feels suitably soothed and rejuvenated enough to unpack properly.

His stubble has become more of a beard over the past few days and he trims it back, watching himself carefully in the mirror and wondering when it was that Lewis began to tire of waking up next to his face.

* * *

The evening is still insanely hot, dry desert heat that feels so different from even the warmest of Monaco days. Nico slips his sunglasses on as him and Georg walk out of the hotel, the sky bursting with hues of red and pink as the sun goes down behind the mountain ranges.

They walk for a while after dinner, when the temperature has cooled a little. It’s a nice atmosphere, the glamour of Los Angeles transplanted out into the desert but without the hectic nature of a major city, all clean lines and modernist buildings that make you stop and take notice. They wind up in an art-deco style cocktail bar, going over the finer details of the Silicon Valley week and drinking Old Fashioneds’ safe in the knowledge that there’s no driving ahead tomorrow, just a free day to relax and explore.

The alcohol loosens Nico’s tongue, making Georg smile as he listens to him talk enthusiastically about all the things he's  done this year.

“I’m proud of you,” Georg says, bumping his shoulder against Nico’s, his breath quickening when Nico turns to him, fishing the cherry out of his cocktail and slipping it into his mouth.

“Thanks, it means a lot.” Nico leans closer to him for a moment, a faint smile on his lips, as if he's proposing a challenge. A puzzle that Georg will never be able to solve. And just as easily he moves back, dropping into conversation again. “Fuck, my neck is killing me, I might make use of the spa facilities tomorrow.”

“Good plan,” Georg replies, coming back to himself.

*

“Dan taught me a thing or two you know,” Georg says when they get back to the hotel later, sitting in Nico’s bungalow with the lamps on low and the sliding glass doors open onto the stone patio. They’d decided to investigate the mini-bar and Nico feels nicely relaxed, just buzzed enough that he'll sleep soundly but wake without a hangover. He rubs his neck trying to ease out the tension.

“Yeah, about what?”

Georg gets up and walks over to Nico, standing behind his chair.

“Lean forward a bit,” he says, and Nico complies, gasping softly as one of Georg's hands grips his shoulder, the other sliding down his back, thumb pressing hard against his shoulderblade kneading at the tightly knotted muscles.

“Ahh, wow that's good.”

“Maybe I have a career as a personal trainer ahead of me,” Georg laughs. “You should probably take this off if you want me to have a proper go,” he says, pulling softly at the collar of Nico's t-shirt.

Georg is not a masseur, despite the amount of Bourbon in his bloodstream buoying him along with the idea. It's nice to be touched though, to have his tense muscles soothed. Georg holds him in place, stroking the back of his neck softly before his hands move lower, the touch light to begin with until he increases the pressure on all the good spots. It’s a long time since he’s been touched this way by another man and the strength in Georg’s hands makes him long for more of this. He needs to let go, to give his body over to someone who knows what to do with it, to feel and not think. He moans softly and Georg's hands still. “You should probably lie on the bed,” Georg whispers. Nico stands and walks around to face him, looking up into his eyes and trying to read what’s there. For a moment, just a moment he sees Georg and not Lewis. But his life is complicated enough without muddling things further.

Georg slides his hand back to cup Nico's neck, some vague pretext of continuing the massage. Nico tilts his head in what might be an invitation, but there's a faraway look in his eyes that makes Georg turn away, stung.

“I know you want to,” Nico says quietly, not elaborating. “I've always known.”

“Yes,” Georg replies. “Fuck, sorry.”

“I’d let you. If it was just this. But it’s not is it?”

Georg shakes his head, exhaling heavily.

“I don’t want you to _let_ me. I know about you and Lewis,” Georg reaches for Nico's discarded t-shirt and hands it to him. If Nico is shocked he doesn't show it.

“I think you should go,” he says, and it sounds sensible rather than angry but still feels like a kick in the teeth.

“Yeah, yeah it's late. I um, we probably shouldn’t have had these,” Georg gestures towards the empty miniatures spread across the table. He’s got one foot out the door when he turns back. Nico is still standing there holding his t-shirt as if he isn’t quite sure what he’s supposed to do next. He looks up at the sound of his name.

“I’ve always got your back, you know that right?”

“I know.”

Nico crawls into the huge bed alone once Georg has gone, wishing they were back in L.A. and further away from whatever the hell Lewis is going to do to his heart.

*

Nico wakes early the next morning, groaning at the sight of the empty mini-bar. He feels okay though, better than he has for a while even though the worry of the strange almost-moment with Georg lingers at the back of his mind while he showers. They eat breakfast together out on the sun terrace and it feels normal enough. There’s a sense of relief that settles over him too. It’s not that he wants to talk about him and Lewis but knowing that he potentially could instead of having it all locked up inside him is freeing in a way.

They don’t explicitly lay out that they want to spend the day apart but it happens that way anyway, Georg has some work to catch up on and so Nico heads out in search of a new phone charger, plugging his phone in as soon as he’s back in the hotel and firing off a quick message to Lewis without really allowing himself to dwell on what he’s writing. A simple _In Palm Springs, should get to Vegas tmrw night. Will call u._

He FaceTimes Vivian then, talking for almost an hour, during which time there’s no response from Lewis. The hotel spa is actually pretty good and Nico spends the rest of the afternoon covered in clay and having his back pummelled, forcibly preventing himself from checking for a reply.

* * *

“Apparently we might see some mountain lions on the road up,” Nico says when he gets back in the car after filling it with gas.

“I can see you were also ambushed into buying one,” Georg nods towards the fluffy lion toy that Nico places in the centre of the dash, smiling.

“Every road trip needs a mascot,” Nico shrugs. “I mean, it’s for Alaïa really.” He flips the sun visor down, starting the engine. It’s going to be another hot one, the temperature gauge in the car already registering 32C not long after 10am. Las Vegas is only a few hours drive and as much as Nico had relished having a day to relax he’d woken up restless to get moving, the sense of so many things unresolved hanging over him.

By the time they’re halfway through the Mojave Desert Nico has pretty much decided he’s over the whole road trip thing. There was a time years ago when he’d driven from Monaco to Milan with Vivian when she was studying and looking back on it now he realises the pleasure of it hadn’t been about the journey itself but in the company; being nineteen and on the cusp of so many great things, embarking on a relationship that was fun, that was easy. That was the difference between Vivian and Lewis. With Lewis everything was a fight. Back then the reward was always worth it. They’d stopped off in San Remo on that trip, him and Vivi, spending the afternoon by the harbour and the evening listening to jazz in a tiny basement bar, trying desperately to impress her, to make her want him as much as he wanted her.

In some ways he feels like a different person now. Impatience creeps through him, the desire to go faster, to recapture that rush that’s impossible to get from a road car. He presses his foot further to the floor, turning to Georg with a smile, but it’s not even close to the same feeling. Joshua trees litter the landscape on either side, strange and hardy in the midst of nothing. They blur as the speed increases and Georg lets out a whoop, understanding passing between them before Nico eases up on the gas, returning to the speed limit.

They pass over into Nevada, billboards advertising shows appearing along the side of the highway and hotels dotted around, as if they’ve just been dropped there from space into the inhospitable terrain. Las Vegas graces the landscape like a mirage, the towering structures of hotels and casinos that line the Strip growing ever larger the closer they get. There are more cars on the road now, in addition to the lonely trucks they’d shared the tarmac with on the way up from Palm Springs. They’ve both been quiet on the drive, lost in their separate thoughts - some of them perhaps converging, Nico thinks. Nothing has changed since they left L.A. really, he still doesn’t know where he stands with Lewis; not completely. He feels the sense of change though, of everything breaking apart and how finally after all these years he may not be able to hold it together. That it may not be worth it.

“How long have you…you know?” Nico asks as the city grows closer. He realises that if they’re going to talk about any of this it’s going to be in the bubble of the car. There’s a strange kind of transience here that won’t exist once they’re in the hotel getting ready for the conference, or after, back in Monaco. They’ll talk of it now or never and Nico feels that in some weird way he owes it to Georg and to himself.

Georg rests his feet up on the dash, thinking. “A while I guess, a couple of years. It’s not…I can live with it is what I mean. Or without it. Nina’s amazing.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward.”

“It’s not awkward. Not for me anyway,” he glances over at Nico. “I guess I thought I was being so smart, that you wouldn’t notice.”

“Same. Well, with Lewis. I think we’re done.”

“That’s why he’s coming here?”

“Mm. I don’t like giving up on things.”

“Sometimes it’s better than dragging the past with you.  Fuck I don't know, do you love him?”

“Yeah,” Nico says automatically, but when he thinks of loving Lewis he thinks of Lewis in his teens, of both of them in their early twenties – a life that seemed to exist in another universe.

*  

“You know where I am if you need me,” Georg says when they part in the hotel lobby with plans to catch up the next day. Nico hugs him goodbye, unsure of who or what he needs now.

* * *

Even now after all this time Nico still gets that same sensation of butterflies in his stomach whenever Lewis walks in the room. It’s something he’d tried to ignore while they were teammates, pushed deep under all the other less pleasant emotions that Lewis so often elicited. Nico lets himself revel in it for a second now though, as he steps out of the elevator and his gaze falls on the Brit sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby. Lewis doesn’t see him straight away and Nico enjoys the rare opportunity to just watch him while he’s unaware, not acting for the cameras or putting on a front. He’s still as gorgeous as ever and Nico feels a surge of pride, of possession, even as misplaced as that now is.

When Lewis looks up from his phone and sees him walking over he tenses, posture changing a little. His lips curve into a smile but it’s not the same old genuine one that Nico used to know. Twenty years ago they’d have thrown their arms around each other like the children they were. Fifteen and they’d have kissed until all the breath escaped their lungs. Now, Lewis pats Nico on the back like an acquaintance and Nico smiles in the pretence that it isn’t killing him.

*

“So you’re talking about us to an audience then,” Lewis comments halfway through their starter. His tone is light and Nico can’t tell if he’s pissed off or amused. He slices a scallop in half, knife scraping along china, chewing thoughtfully before looking up into Lewis’ eyes. “I can’t talk about my career without mentioning you. Unfortunately the two are kind of linked.”

“You should put in about that time I sucked you off in the garage after the 2013 car launch, give them an evening to remember.”

“Do you think it would surprise that many people, even if I did?” Nico asks, laughing. “We used to be so obvious, you know. I didn’t realise it at the time, but looking back…Vivi knew about us before I’d even said a word.”

Lewis nudges his leg against Nico’s beneath the table. “Yeah well, I was never good at hiding my feelings about you, man.”

“When did that change?” Nico asks, tension in his voice.

Lewis shrugs, “one of the times you crashed into me maybe.” Nico drops his fork with a clatter, heads turning across the restaurant.

“Yes I forgot you were blameless in everything.”

“It doesn’t matter now does it,” Lewis sighs, sitting up straight in his chair, “who was to blame I mean. It’s history, it’s done.”

“What about us, are we done, Lewis?”

Lewis glances around the crowded restaurant. “Not in public.”

*

The bright lights and colour of the Strip are disorienting when they walk out onto it, traffic heavy and the sidewalk awash with tourists and stag parties. The atmosphere doesn’t suit Nico’s mood and he wishes they’d found the time to see each other in Monaco instead, somewhere familiar. Their hands brush together as they walk and Nico has to try hard to resist threading his fingers through Lewis’.

Lewis follows Nico into the elevator wordlessly when they get back to the hotel, stepping out on the same floor and following him down to his room. There are so many nights they’ve stumbled into hotel rooms together, filled with lust or anger or some volatile combination of the two. Now there’s an absence of either and it just feels _flat_ in a way. Nico is stubborn and he’s spent his life fighting for the things he wants; giving up feels alien and he spent the journey up from Palm Springs formulating his argument – his reasoning why they had to fight for this, why they owed it to their younger selves to give this one last try; but alone with Lewis in a hotel room now it all sounds so foolish in his mind. He sits on the end of the bed, Lewis standing before him.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” Nico whispers, willing Lewis to contradict him.

“Yeah. I think it was over ages ago.” Lewis takes a seat next to Nico, sliding an arm around him.

“I didn’t want it to be. I kept thinking there’d be a right time for us but – there just never was.”

“I thought maybe now…”

“I met someone,” Lewis says, and Nico feels as though something inside him breaks, some ghastly pain that hits him square in the chest and almost knocks the breath from him.

“Cool, I’m happy for you,” he replies automatically without even stopping to consider whether he actually is or not.

Lewis turns to him, hooks his fingers under Nico’s chin and leans in close.

“We’ll always be something,” he whispers. When they kiss there is no passion, but it isn’t just going through the motions either.

“Stay the night?” Nico asks, his lips soft against Lewis’ neck. “Not – not for anything, but just like we used to before.”   

*

It’s a very long time since Nico has woken up next to Lewis, a good couple of years at least, before things really went to shit and they decided mutually without even discussing it that their relationship going forward would consist of quick and filthy and emotionless moments. It feels strange blinking away the last of his dreaming to find himself being watched intently. The bed is warm and the heat of Lewis’ body achingly familiar. He rolls closer, hooking a leg over one of Lewis’.

“You look faraway,” Nico murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

“Just thinking about some things.” Lewis pauses, “do you regret it, Nico? Any of it?”

“Us? No, not at all. Well, maybe the way we handled some things, but that’s it.”

“I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone,” Lewis confesses. “It scares me sometimes, that I might not get that again for real.”

Nico reaches out and touches his face, Lewis’ stubble scratchy against his palm. “You’ll get it,” he says firmly, stroking down Lewis’ neck, light and gentle. Lewis’ use of the past-tense stings, but he knows really that that’s what they are now, a thing of the past just like racing and that pure inimitable adrenaline rush of winning. Nico doesn’t know really if he still loves Lewis, or if it’s just about hanging on to that one last piece of his old life, clinging to the familiarity of him. There are so few people in the world who know him as deeply as Lewis does and part of him needs Lewis’ validation, needs to know that Lewis still values the new, non-racing driver-Nico. He doesn’t know why it matters, just that it does.

“I never thought we’d turn out this way,” Nico whispers.

“Sometimes things just end,” Lewis replies, pressing a kiss to Nico’s bare shoulder. “They run their course and that’s it. Shit, man, I don’t want to say this okay but I’m happier now and I think if you let it go then you will be too.” Nico leans back against him, lets Lewis wrap his arms around him. He understands, on some level. But letting go of everything is terrifying. The future stretches out in his mind but it’s blank, beyond family life he can’t picture it at all.

“I thought it would tear me apart when you left,” Lewis confesses. “but I felt relief. It was easier to concentrate.”

“I did it for me, not you.” _I did it for us_ , Nico thinks, but that isn't a tangible thing anymore so he doesn't say it.

They lie back into the sheets, light seeping through the curtains, the new day encroaching on their time together. “I think you made the right choice,” Lewis says, and when he covers Nico's body with his own it is without even having to think about it, their lips meeting as they have so many times before.

Nico refuses to think about this as a goodbye fuck. There's something about sex with someone who knows you so intimately, knows without even thinking about it how you like to be touched. In a way that's what Nico has been missing, that connection that he hasn't ever managed to build with anyone other than Lewis and Vivian. He doesn't try to memorise it, the way that Lewis feels around him, the way he gasps his name. He closes his eyes, losing himself to the sensation as Lewis rides him. It's easier that way, easier to feel rather than to see him and _know_ that their story ends here. They’ve run out of laps and this is it, neither of them winning or losing. Lewis shudders in his arms when he comes and _no_ , Nico thinks as he feels his balls tighten, _no not yet,_ desperate to draw it out a little longer but unable to.

*

“So um, are you coming to the conference tonight?” Nico asks as Lewis dresses.

“I uh, have a date actually, back in L.A.”

Right. Of course. Nico has no right to be upset by this he knows. No right at all. But the thought of it - someone else's hands on Lewis’ body, someone else _learning_ him the way Nico knows him - all the details and intimacy that has grown for years, it makes him feel sick.

“Sure,” Nico says. “I mean I guess it was just us talking that you were here for.” his fingers shake as he buttons his shirt. Whether this is right or not it still doesn't feel real.

“Hey, this isn't easy for me either, man,” Lewis replies, but he kisses him on the cheek rather than on the lips when he leaves the room.

There’s a knock on Nico's door a couple of minutes later and he half thinks… _hopes._

But it's Georg in front of him when he opens the door, Georg who holds him while he pulls himself together. Nico knows he could use him to make himself feel better, but playing with hearts isn't his style.

“We’re going to go and get you some lunch,” Georg tells him, when he's come back to himself a little. “And Paul is going fucking crazy at the roulette table so you have to come and rescue him.”

* * *

Sometimes a clean break is the only way, Nico figures, smiling affably at the interviewer as the picture of himself and Lewis flashes up on the screen that evening. “So you two guys knew each other well when you were go-karting?” The guy prompts.

“Yeah, actually we were very close,” he replies, taking a deep breath. “But people move on.”

 


End file.
